


Knight to King’s Castle, Check

by Anjelica_Grey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Chess, Gen, Happy Ending, Infertility, King Alistair, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14673074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelica_Grey/pseuds/Anjelica_Grey
Summary: King Alistair Theirin and Commander Cullen Rutherford finally have a chance to catch up on old times, over a lively (according to Cullen), boring (according to Alistair) game of chess.





	Knight to King’s Castle, Check

_‘Someday,’_ King Alistair thought with an indulgent smile. _‘Some blessed day I will spend time with Rutherford where we ride, or spar, or do literally any other thing besides play a boring game of chess. But alas, today is not that day.’_

The Commander of the Inquisition’s forces surveyed the carved marble armies before him, plotting his battle strategy. Alistair leaned on the edge of the table, tapping his chin as it rested on his hand. And he waited. His right knee started to bounce, more or less without his conscious input. And he waited. He discovered his stool turned back and forth with an interesting squeaky noise. Cullen looked up.

“Alistair.”

“Yeeeeesss?”

“Maker’s breath, man, can’t you hold still for _five seconds_?”

“Cullen. You’ve known me since we were boys. Have I _ever_ , in _all_ of those years, given you the impression I _could_ hold still for five seconds?”

“... No.”

“Well, there’s your answer!” The king smirked cheekily at the Commander, whose disapproving frown was belied by the amused glint in his eyes. Finally, he moved a pawn, and leaned back in his chair.

“I expected Anora would have civilized you at least a little by now,” Cullen teased, but a question lurked behind his words.

The circumstances of Alistair’s wedding to Anora had been abysmal and, fresh from the horrors of Kinloch Hold’s collapse, Cullen hadn’t been much better off. For a while, the letters between Denerim and Kirkwall were a rare bright spot in both their lives. Cullen was one of the few people he felt safe telling about his struggle to become a proper king, and the templar’s calm, thoughtful perspective helped. And though they didn’t speak often of Kinloch, Alistair liked to feel he had been of some help in return, by reminding the young templar he was a decent man despite all he’d endured.

When he’d managed to visit Kirkwall, nearly a decade later, he’d intended to spend time catching up with his friend. But they’d barely begun the obligatory chess match when Cullen’s boss, Knight-Commander Meredith, had interrupted. The woman was such a crazy zealot that both Alistair and his uncle Teagan had deemed it wise to leave quickly. And of course, Kirkwall had gone straight to the Void after that, followed by the rest of the world. They’d seen each other a few times during the Mage-Templar War and the mess with that ancient magister and the hole in the sky, but they never had either the time or the privacy to have an in-depth conversation (although Rutherford had cornered him into a game of chess in the busy garden of Skyhold).

But now, the world was finally, slowly, edging back toward normal. King Alistair had invited Inquisitor Lavellan and her military commander to Denerim to celebrate their victory, and in his own home, he could be sure of at least a few places for uninterrupted conversation. He’d chosen his favorite, a sunny rolling meadow decorated with scattered trees. Too uneven for riding, and too remote for much else, it was the perfect place for a monarch to escape and breathe the open air.

Now, he could tell his oldest friend how things had changed. Cullen would never judge him, he knew ... though some days he still judged himself. He realized he’d been staring into space… but unlike him, the Commander was capable of waiting patiently for him to continue.

The king grinned, albeit nervously. “Well, Anora is a remarkable woman, but she’s not a miracle worker; it would take more than even a queen to civilize a bastard raised by dogs.”

“That’s fair,” said Cullen dryly. 

“She’s ... made a pretty good job of it, though, I have to admit. And once I settled down and got over myself, it wasn’t really so bad.” Cullen tilted his head, encouraging. _‘Okay, Theirin,’_ he lectured himself, _‘stop being an idiot. He’s your friend; he wants you to be happy. Spit it out.’_

“So, you know I was horrified at the idea of being king. When Neria told me I needed to start standing up for myself and taking action, I couldn’t fathom it. I didn’t ... well, you know; I told you in a dozen letters. I loved her, and all I wanted was to end the Blight so we could be together. When she talked the Landsmeet into accepting Anora and I as joint rulers, I was angry and afraid, but I vowed I would never, ever let her go. She said gossiping nobles would see her as at the king’s little pet elf witch, but I didn’t care; I swore I’d never leave her. And then ...”

He stared off for a long moment. Even after more than ten years, her loss was painful. “Then, after Neria d—after the Blight ended, I was destroyed. Forced by the only woman I’d ever loved into the one role I never wanted, married to my dead brother’s wife, who I barely knew and who’d never had a kind word for me ... Cullen, if I hadn’t had your letters, I might have thrown myself from the top of Fort Drakon. I almost did anyway. But the strangest thing happened.”

“I was out in the hedge maze one day with a bottle of Golden Scythe, headed for this out-of-the-way spot I’d discovered where I could get well and truly drunk. Except someone was already there, and to my absolute astonishment, it was Anora. With her own half-empty bottle. We stared at each other in shock, and I heard myself say, ‘Nice place for a binge, isn’t it?’” He chuckled, remembering. “Not the sort of phrase one should blurt out to his supposed wife, let alone his queen. But she just nodded and said, ‘Yes, I’ve always thought so.’”

“And before I knew it, Anora and I were getting drunk together, and she told me how she missed Cailan, and I told her how I missed Neria, and it ... it was nice. We could mourn them as _themselves_ , not as the king and the hero. There was nobody telling us to move on, let go, and do our duty for Ferelden.”

“It’s ironic,” he continued, “because eventually that’s what we did. We became friends, surprisingly enough. Talking about how Neria wanted me to improve the lives of mages and elves made me want to quit moping and do it, and Anora had ideas on how to start. For her, remembering Cailan’s charisma made her notice how I interacted with people; she said I connected to them in a way she couldn’t. We ruled more effectively together. And then it was natural to appreciate each other’s contributions, and ...” The king flushed under his golden tan, “Well, she’s a beautiful woman, and she seems to think I’m not altogether hideous, and ...”

Cullen regarded him with barely suppressed humor. “Alistair, are you trying to tell me you have fallen in love with your wife? Andraste’s flaming knickers, what a scandal! How could you keep such a heinous sin hidden so long??” The sarcasm dripped from every word.

Alistair’s blush grew until it suffused the roots of his copper hair, and fidgeting, he shifted a pawn at random. “I just ... listen, I know I went on and on about how much I loved Neria and never needed anyone but her. And it was true, I swear it was! But ... she’s gone. And though a part of me still feels guilty, like I’m betraying her memory ... I do love Anora. Despite how she was trained to hide her heart behind that perfect shell, underneath is a brave, brilliant, and kind woman. She held the kingdom together while every clueless arse in Thedas shouted how she was a cold conniving bitch, how her father was a murdering traitor, and how Cailan’s lack of an heir was the Maker’s punishment for elevating a lowborn whore above her station.”

He paused, eyes haunted. “Flames, Cullen ... if you’d seen her face when she finally let it all out one night; it nearly broke me. The sheer mortification of total strangers commenting freely on her private parts and what she did with them. The aching shame of snide courtiers calling her barren behind their sleeves—the same way a farmer would talk about a hen who wasn’t laying eggs: a useless burden, failing at its purpose and fit for nothing but death. The gut-churning misery every time nobles came to present their new offspring to the crown, despairing of ever having her own while knowing the whole court waited with bated breath to see if this was the time her flawless façade would crack. I ... I’m impressed she survived it, to be honest. I don’t think I would have.”

A shake of his head pushed the sad memories away in favor of their happier conclusion. “I suppose the heart of it is, she makes me stronger, and I give her the freedom to be softer. We’re better together.”

“That’s wonderful, Alistair. Truly. I am glad beyond measure; after all you’ve been through, you deserved to find peace.” He glanced away thoughtfully, and then looked back at his old friend. “And I understand, believe me. I never expected Ellana Lavellan’s impact on my world. After Kinloch, Kirkwall, quitting lyrium ... her love has been a gift from the Maker Himself. Or perhaps the Creators, she would say,” he chuckled. “I’m grateful for the blessing, whatever its source.” A sweet memory curved his scarred lips as he moved a piece before meeting the king’s gaze again. “But ... why did you tell me this as if you were confessing some terrible secret?” 

Alistair shrugged sheepishly. “It’s stupid, I ... I don’t know how to say this, so I guess I’ll muddle through awkwardly as usual.” He ran a careless hand through his hair and began. “You aren’t just my oldest friend, Cullen; you’re one of the few true friends I have, and probably the only person alive besides Anora who really sees me for who I am. You’ve literally saved my life. And despite all you endured, you somehow kept the same true and virtuous heart, even if you sometimes forgot it yourself. I ... didn’t want you to think ill of me. To think my promise to love Neria forever, or my word in general, was meaningless.” He studied the ground. “I didn’t want you to think I’d become some worthless noble who traded out women on a whim and valued nothing.”

Cullen’s amber eyes were serious. “Alistair. I would never think that of you, never. If you have a flaw at all in that regard, it’s that you’ve always cared _too_ deeply, been _too_ willing to see the best in others. I was ... not a good man in Kirkwall. I behaved in ways that will shame me all my days. And I could’ve grown numb to that life ... but you, you kept writing me, and you cared _so much_ , you were _so certain_ I was a man of integrity, a protector of the weak ... the Champion of the Just my younger self always aspired to be. I couldn’t bear to admit your vision of that admirable knight was so far from reality. So my only choice was to try to climb out of the abyss and become that person again.”

“I met Neria Surana a time or two, and she never struck me as someone who’d take joy in the misery of others,” he added. “I suspect she’d be as pleased as I am that you’ve found happiness at last.”

The two old friends shared a smile that stretched decades into the past, from the first time a grinning copper-haired boy had interrupted the studies of a serious lad with golden curls, by elbowing him and saying “Watch this!” before slipping a live frog into a Revered Mother’s sleeve.

“But Your Majesty, there is _one_ other matter,” Cullen said, with false solemnity.

“What’s that?”

“Check.”

A sudden grin lit Alistair’s face. “I see. Well, you forget the one benefit I have as royalty, Cullen.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“You can’t win at chess until you can capture the king!” He snatched the piece off the board and took off at a run, his friend’s helpless laughter erupting behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> A happier path for King Alistair, and a chance to cut Anora some slack. I always thought she came across as kind of a jerk, but then I thought, how warm and fuzzy would I be, if a kingdom full of strangers were talking in the street about me like they talked about her? Maybe Alistair is just what she needed. :)
> 
> It was meant to be just a few paragraphs, and then four pages later, here we are, lol.


End file.
